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the
plans and had moved on to speculating whether Samara’s brother Andrew was ever
going to get around to asking Sapphira Taylor if she would accept him as her
bond mate. Samara thought they ought to lock them together in the village
garden shed.
    Rebaccah chuckled and shook her head. “We’ll reserve that if
we run out of other ideas. I can’t believe how stubborn he is.”
    “Oh, Sapphira will only wait so long. Then she’ll drag him
out to the nearest bonding circle when she’s ready for him. Don’t be surprised,
Mama. She ordered her pledging and bonding blankets from Tyger over two moons
ago.”
    “Really?” Rebaccah’s face took on a thoughtful expression.
“Does her mother know?”
    “Uh-hmm. Morgana went with her to pick yarn colors. Tyger
promised he would begin the weaving this eight-day.” Samara yawned suddenly.
“I’m so tired. I think I’ll go take a nap.”
    “Aren’t you hungry?”
    “No. I’ll have something later. Andrew’s eating at the
Llewellyn dome. You enjoy dinner with Papa.” Samara went into her room and
softly closed the door. After stretching out on her bed, she stared out the
window at the gathering twilight, wondering how she could spend the rest of her
life alone. No one else could understand how she felt. No one could possibly
know the deep trembling fear and loneliness that ambushed her in the dark. Why
had Gil done this to her? Why? She searched her brain for a reason—any reason
for him to think she would take him as a bond mate. Before she drew any
satisfactory conclusions, she fell fast asleep.
     
    Samara shook her head and pushed the ugly memories away. It
was hard for her to believe so much had happened so quickly. With many willing
hands from the village, Stefan Cowal had completed her dome in record time. It
was less than a year since the Midsummer Gathering that offered her new hope.
Furnishings and household goods appeared daily until she had everything she
could possibly need and then some. At last, she had a place of her own.
    * * * * *
    On a low-hanging branch of a malzhal tree in the
shadowy quiet of the Far Woods, a young man waited silently for the deer to
pass his perch. From the night his older brother had died atop the judgment
seat, Jiph had lived a miserable existence. At last, he stuffed his few
belongings in a battered pack and walked away from Bell’s Corner despite the
protests of his mother who had no way of knowing why he couldn’t bear to live
there anymore.
    He thought a lot about that night. In the hushed rush to
save Samara’s life, the villagers had failed to notice him hiding in the bushes
that lined the river. He had hunched over in the dark with his hands clasped
over his face as the horror threatened to overcome him. It wasn’t how he
thought the night would end when he sneaked out to follow his big brother Gil.
Something had gone terribly wrong. Angrily he determined that someone would
pay.
    After the villagers had all returned to their homes, Jiph
had slipped from the clump of bushes, cautiously stretching stiff muscles
before creeping across the bridge to the empty practice field beyond. Once he
was past the dark empty training barracks, he’d found the trail to Bell’s
Corner and fled toward home. Soon, someone in authority would be coming to
inform his parents about Gil’s death. They must never find out that he had
followed Gil.
    Jiph suppressed the shudders that spread up his spine as he
recalled the dark days after Dai and Merlyn brought the news of Gil’s crime and
death. His mother had cried for days until her cheeks were rough and red. His
father had become a silent withdrawn shadow that drifted from his weaving shed
to the small bedroom where Gil had slept. His father lived there, eating and
sleeping in solitary shame, until the night he died in his sleep.
    The soft rustle of deer steps jerked Jiph out of his black
memories. It was time. Unaware, his prey approached.

Chapter Two
    Out-Valley, Appalachian